Ethereal love (ENG)
by Marian Nightroad
Summary: Aziraphale suddenly felt how those six thousand years materialized between them, multiplying the distance that separated them as if they were at opposite ends of the universe and not in the same bed. And suddenly the bedroom felt cold, a cold that perhaps had nothing to do with the temperature and did have a lot to do with its decisions.


**I posted this in Spanish first, but as I saw some interest from non spanish speakers, I decided to translate it to reach out to more people. English is not my mother languaje so I'm sorry in advance if there's any mistake here.**

**This story takes place the night they go back to London in bus, just before the judgements. I hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you think so I can improve.**

* * *

**Ethereal love**

The smooth rattling of the bus, rhythmic and constant, threatened to make him fall asleep at any moment. Even if it wasn't something he used to do for pleasure, unlike Crowley, Aziraphale was so exhausted in so many different ways that he could suddenly understand why sleeping for a few hours was too tempting.

His gaze traveled from the dark night landscape outside to the face of his partner; Crowley looked as tired as he felt, maybe even more. His pale face gave him a sepulchral appearance, his hair was messy and he was sure that, behind the sunglasses, his eyes had lost that glow that he had always found so fascinating. It was as if, in one more of their silent agreements, they had decided that it would be the demon who would take the fatigue of both while the angel was responsible for carrying the anguish and fear of what would come now that they had stopped the Armageddon. Because, even though he was so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open, Aziraphale was standing guard, ready to defend them both in case their respective sides decided to take action against them that very night. Frankly, he hoped they wouldn't.

The angel closed his eyes for a moment. He was supposed to be happy, after all, not every day they stopped the end of the world, however, there were things that kept bothering him, things that had been accumulating for several thousand years and that menacing to make him explode, an immense amount of words that, if he let them out, he was sure it would be as many thousands of years before he could shut his mouth; and he didn't have that much time. While the trees gave way to increasingly large buildings, Aziraphale wondered why, after all they had lived through these last days, he couldn't stop inventing excuses to get what he wanted.

What he wanted at that moment was to be as close to Crowley as possible, because he feared that, if they separated even if it were for a short moment, he would never be able to see him again. Pretending that he had forgotten about his bookstore had saved him from openly expressing that fear and he was more than grateful to Crowley for always understanding what he wanted to say between lines, but he was tired of hiding his desires, fearing that allowing himself to be selfish made him lose the grace of heaven, not because he was afraid of falling, but because he doubted they would allow him to keep in touch with the demon if they found out. Although, of course, it was already too late for that.

Before he could drown in his thoughts, a sudden weight settled on one of his shoulders. A strange mixture of ashes, dust and cologne flooded his nostrils when his nose brush Crowley's hair. Being taller than him, Aziraphale could imagine how awkward that position should be, however, the slowness with which his breath caressed the skin of his neck was sufficient proof that he was at ease. The space was too narrow, the seat, rigid, there were still several hours away, they still had many problems to deal with… and yet, a sigh left the angel's lips, one who revealed the enormous peace that having Crowley's head rested on his shoulder caused him.

He closed his eyes again. Maybe he couldn't sleep, but he could forget everything to the rhythm of his beloved partner's breath.

* * *

When the bus stopped in front of the building where Crowley lived, they both walked side by side in silence, as fast as their heavy legs could carry them without fail. A small miracle would have been enough for the elevator to be ready for them as soon as they were in front of the huge metal doors, but they waited for it to arrive on its own, almost two minutes after pressing the button. Luckily it was empty. Some floors and several minutes later, they were finally inside the sober apartment.

Aziraphale couldn't remember how many years had passed since he had been there for the last time, but the fact that it hadn't changed at all since then made him feel a little more comfortable and less like an intruder. He could see the same furniture, the same desk in the office, the same plants -much more beautiful and leafy-, and Crowley's style permeated even in the smallest details. After confirming with pleasure that nothing had changed there, he entered the place with more confidence.

Crowley got rid of his jacket on the way and, with a slight nod, told him to follow him. After his coat joined Crowley's jacket on the floor, they both advanced down the hall, passed by the dining room and the bathroom, until they reached the door at the end and enter the room.

The bedroom was spacious, although perhaps it only seemed to be like that because it was almost empty. A bed too large for a single person in black sheets, a mahogany bedside table and a single armchair with equally black upholstery made up the little furniture of the place, but at that time even the floor seemed as an excellent option to rest.

The demon walked shuffling towards the bed and then dropped onto the left side, not even bothering to take off his shoes to be more comfortable. Aziraphale let out a soft laugh at that gesture so typical of him, but the laugh was soon replaced by a growing discomfort because he didn't know what to do now, unable to decide whether it would be okay to sit on the edge of the bed or if it would be better to sit in the armchair. In the end he decided on that last option, although Crowley's voice, muffled by the pillows in which he had buried his face, stopped him before he could settle.

"What are you doing, Aziraphale? Come to bed, there is enough space for both of us."

"I don't think it's a good idea," he replied, even if he really didn't have a good reason to refuse, as it was true that the bed was so large that they did not even have to be close to each other. "I'm going to take off my shoes, you should do the same," he said, trying to sound casual, thankful that the demon couldn't see the faint blush that was beginning to cover his face.

Crowley made a grunt-like sound and settled better in bed when he felt the mattress move under the weight of the angel. He really wanted to close his eyes and surrender to sleep, but the incessant movement of his partner avoided him from forgetting that he was sharing the bed with him. Was it really a good idea to be this close? As much as he tried, he found no reason to think it wasn't.

"Why don't you try to sleep too?" He asked, it wasn't necessary to look at him to know that he couldn't get comfortable.

"I don't… I don't know how to do it, I've never slept before", he admitted and later apologized for moving so much.

"It's not that difficult, you just have to… close your eyes and… breathe slowly… it's simple…"

The words were increasingly spaced and muted; Aziraphale was certain that this conversation, unfortunately, wouldn't last much longer. Luckily, he was wrong, Crowley's sleepy voice filled the bedroom again, returning for a moment the peace he believed lost.

"You also have to relax your body… the eyelids, the jaw… the arms… to the tip of your feet. Just let yourself go."

_Let myself go_, Aziraphale thought, wishing it was not so difficult.

"It seems easy," said the angel instead, amazed by the ability of his counterpart to be halfway to unconsciousness. To be honest, he wondered how he could sleep with his face buried in the pillows, although, thinking about it, maybe a bit of suffocation was what it took to lose consciousness.

"I've never been so tired," Crowley said, his voice was barely a murmur and his eyes were too heavy to keep them open for longer, "I could sleep for a century or two without problems".

That took Aziraphale by surprise in an unpleasant way. A grimace full of anguish almost distort his face, but he managed to hide it behind a small smile despite knowing he wasn't even looking at him. It was a great effort to respond without letting his anguish show in his words.

"Do it, I'll stand guard in the meantime… just in case."

A slight trembling ran through his body at the idea of Crowley going to sleep for so long. He remembered feeling very lonely the last time, but now that they had become closer, he wasn't sure how he would endure so much time without the company of his best friend. And yet, he was willing to endure it for him, because if he really needed to rest so much to feel better, then he would make sure that nothing and no one interrupted his dream, of being there for him when he woke up, that everything was well when he did it.

For Crowley that fear didn't go unnoticed, even though he was a breath away from falling asleep; he soon regretted saying those words out loud.

"It was a joke, angel," he hurried to clear, opening his eyes to look directly at the opposites. "I won't leave you alone with this mess."

Aziraphale felt a strange warmth expanding from the depths of his ethereal being to fill every corner of his physical body. His hands shook for a reason that had nothing to do with the fear he had felt before and soon thanked that breathing wasn't a vital function for him. Nor does keeping his heart beating at a steady pace.

"Then… I should prepare something to eat when you wake up," he replied almost hurriedly, even though he knew he was the only one who eats, preparing to get out of that bed that suddenly seemed too small. Or too big. He was no longer sure. Something in Crowley's gaze stopped him before he could even sit up. Something that had always been there and that he had struggled to ignore all that time, but that now was unable to not notice. That look that Crowley always gave him when they meet, after spending several years without seeing each other. The same look he had the first time they saw each other in the Garden of Eden. That look that was reserved only for him.

"Sleep with me," the demon asked in a voice so soft that he almost thought he had imagined it, "if you want," he added immediately, reminding him that his decisions would always be more important to him than his own desires. Aziraphale responded with a smile. The smile that was only for Crowley. He wasn't sure he could sleep, but he was sure he wanted to stay by his side a little longer.

Crowley turned on the bed until he was lying on his side, facing Aziraphale, keeping his eyes connected. It was a bed large enough to accommodate three or four people, but suddenly it didn't seem so wide; he was sure that if he reached out his hand he could touch him, but he was too tired to try, not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't think he could stand a rejection at that moment. He was afraid that any mistake could ruin the atmosphere that had been created after their eyes connected and they remained silent, talking with their eyes of everything they could not and did not know express in words.

Aziraphale suddenly felt how those six thousand years materialized between them, multiplying the distance that separated them as if they were at opposite ends of the universe and not in the same bed. And suddenly the bedroom felt cold, a cold that perhaps had nothing to do with the temperature and did have a lot to do with its decisions. _Indecisions_, he corrected himself. Apparently he wasn't the only one who could feel it, because even while he never stopped paying attention to his gaze any moment, he could see Crowley flinching a little.

A small miracle would have been enough for materialize a blanket to cover them both. A little effort and he could have got close enough to share his warmth, but he wasn't sure how close to him he could be without him noticing how embarrassed he felt. Finally, he opted for an option that, although it wasn't the most practical, it was the one that would expose him the most, the only way in which he could convey his feelings to him so that he had no more doubts. Using the little amount of energy that he had left, Aziraphale lets his aura expands towards Crowley, covering him with his divine, warm and loving essence, as only the aura of an extremely pure angel could be.

The demon's golden eyes filled with surprise as that intangible warmth of the angel spreads through every corner of his body. His skin, usually cold, felt warmer in a way that did not even resemble what he felt when he was inside the burning Bentley. The peace he always felt when he was next to the angel multiplying infinitely. A soft sigh escaped his lips without even bothering to contain it, and Aziraphale smiled pleased to hear him, one of those smiles so his, charming and innocent.

The demon lets himself go, sharing his aura with him too, cold and dark in contrast to that of the angel. A spark of electricity made Aziraphale shiver at the same time as a chill ran down her spine and a soft 'Oh' broke the pleasant silence.

"I'm sorry," Crowley apologized, withdrawing his energy immediately, genuinely sorry for making him feel cold when he was trying so hard to keep both of them warm. But Aziraphale wasn't upset, his smile, increasingly wide, confirmed it.

"Do it again," the angel asked, reaching out to him, but not touching him yet. Crowley hesitated for a moment, but soon gave in to the angel's wishes, as he always did, even when it seemed it was the other way.

Little by little, almost shyly -although he would never dare to say that out loud- Aziraphale could feel his cold aura surrounding his body, staying away at first as if he was afraid to touch him but getting closer and closer until he felt it caressing his skin again. Crowley's essence was very different from his own, completely opposite to be honest, however, he could say that it was a cold that was cozy. In all the time he had lived among humans, despite having traveled for hundreds of places and experienced all kinds of temperatures, he had never felt anything like that. It was like wrapping under blankets with a steaming cup of cocoa on a winter night. So full of warmth, so full of… tenderness.

For what could have been a couple of hours or a couple of years, angel and demon dedicated themselves to share their essences, exchanging and combining what should be opposite poles, surrendering to each other, letting themselves be enveloped by the other's aura. Their eyes remained connected, they shared smiles and occasional laughs caused by the clash of their contrary energies becoming pleasant electricity waves.

Crowley, who was apparently the most aware of what was happening, repressed himself for a moment, sure that they could still stop, that it wasn't too late for the angel, because he couldn't care less for his own safety, but to risk to harm the only being who had always been by his side was out of the question. He could not stain his angel, because that would condemn him to fall, and he better than anyone knew that he did not deserve to feel such agony.

But Aziraphale wasn't stupid, he didn't need to read his mind to know what tormented his friend.

"It's all right," he explained with infinite patience, "there's no way that love can be a bad thing, or a sin. They created me to love all the creatures of the universe, that I have chosen to love you just a little more than anything else was only a matter of time. It's…"

"It's ineffable," the demon finished for him just a little louder than a whisper, unable to make it sound like a mockery under the circumstances. The smile on Aziraphale's face widened. "I'm not supposed to feel love, you know, we demons shouldn't feel love or friendship or… or anything, in fact," he insisted, speaking more for himself than for the angel, as if he wasn't trying to contradict him but putting in words for the first time what had been in his head for millennia, trying to convince himself that it was that way. "But I do, angel. I have always done. From the very beginning, in the garden…"

"I sincerely believe that being a demon doesn't exempt you from having feelings," Aziraphale replied absently, thoughtfully. "It is the same as you feel for music, or for tempt humans, even. You can also feel other… things…" he hesitated, but he was tired of doubting, of hiding from their respective sides, so he armed himself with courage to defend the only thing he really wanted for once in his long existence and added: "For me."

"Those are different things," he hastened to clarify, "music or temptations are only small pleasures."

"I know, my dear, it's a different kind of love, different from the one you feel for music or from what I feel for books. It's…" he thought for a moment, maybe trying to find the right word or maybe trying to convince himself that it was okay to say it out loud. "It's our own kind of love, one that is only ours."

_Our own kind of love_, Crowley thought, he wasn't sure that that was the right way to call it, it sounded too… human, but at the same time, he knew there was no other way to call what they had been cultivating throughout the centuries. That which hath made them forget even that they were enemies. _Love_ felt too short to express how much he harbored for Aziraphale, but, unable to find another word that could describe it better, he decided that he liked _love_.

He still couldn't believe that was really happening. He was silent for a moment, perhaps too long, looking into the angel's eyes as if the answer to all of his questions was hidden there. He no longer felt lethargic as before, the conversation had been enough to ward off the drowsiness and return the lucidity, and however, it was really difficult for him to process what was happening between them.

Aziraphale couldn't erase the smile that had formed on his lips. He knew that Crowley had been aware of those feelings long before him -which was ironic because he was the one who was supposed to feel love for all beings in creation-, he also knew how difficult it was to have to hide them for so long, and how much they had failed, because it was impossible not to realize what was happening. He knew and understood as no one else in the entire universe could.

That understanding was what made him think that there really was no one else in the whole creation with whom he could be and feel as he did with him. The warmth he projected towards Crowley was impregnated with a sweet and relaxing smell when he returned to focus on him, knowing that he would be able to notice with all his senses what he had been shutting up for so long.

Crowley inhaled the intoxicating scent of the angel; now he not only felt him surrounding his ethereal being with his love, now he could also feel him inside his physical body, filling what for so long was nothing but emptiness, complementing him, healing old wounds. It didn't take him long to imitate him, surrendering himself completely to his other half. Because that was what they were, two halves that came together to form something sublime, something divine.

"Down there they will be proud when they know that I tempted an angel," he joked, although Aziraphale couldn't bother because he loved that naughty gaze he always gave him when he was about to do some wickedness, "because, obviously, I'm not going to say that I was the one who fell before an angel, that would ruin my reputation."

A soft laugh filled the room before he could respond, and Crowley felt the purest ecstasy when that laugh filled his ears, adding to the already overflowed cluster of sensations he was experiencing.

"In that case, I'll say that I could reform a demon, because I cannot let them know that I fell into temptation."

This time it was Crowley's turn to laugh, although he regained seriousness soon.

"You know, Aziraphale, I think it's funny that it was you who was tempting me all this time," he observed, noticing a spark of amusement in his eyes, as if he were now aware of reality.

"As curious as that you have been taking care of me," he replied in his defense, although that was not really a secret, they both knew that he had become very confident because he could always count on the protection of his 'enemy'.

"I think you are, just a little, more evil than the rest of the angels."

"Is that what you think?" Aziraphale thought about it for a moment, as if that idea, which had repeatedly made them laugh, was suddenly the most logical thing in the world.

"Yes."

"You're also a little more gentle than the rest of the demons," he replied, knowing that he had never liked to hear that. "But that's fine, to be different. I believe, without fear of being wrong, that we have been together for so long that we have influenced each other, so that we're no more like the other angels or demons. We became different from everyone else."

Crowley looked at him for a moment, trying to find any trace of doubt in him, expecting him to retract. So many times he had refused the idea that they could both be on their own side that now, seeing him so confident, he couldn't help feeling afraid that it was a dream. But it was not, and he was more than pleased that they had finally put aside all the chains that restrained them from being together.

"It's you and me against the world, as it has always been," he announced almost proudly.

Aziraphale nodded, agreeing.

"An angel and a demon, who would've said it," he replied, although he soon regretted doing so.

"So, we are friends now?"

Those words, so full of pain even if he had struggled to disguise it as a joke, took him by surprise and filled him with regret. He knew that he had hurt him when he denied the only real thing they had, that friendship that had done nothing but grow and consolidate over the centuries. He himself had felt terribly bad after having had to reject his proposal to escape together in such a cruel way, but he was sure that even that had been necessary to get to where they were now, together.

"I'm sorry about that," he apologized with complete sincerity. "You're my best friend, you've always been."

"I know," he smiled, erasing with that simple gesture every trace of concern on the angel's face. "I just wanted to be sure that you knew it too."

Aziraphale laughed. Or maybe it was Crowley. By that time, they were already so connected that it was impossible to say to whom that laugh belonged, or that heartbeat, that sounded more as if their hearts had melted and now they were beating as one. Now they could even feel what the other felt, what more proof than that do them need that they had become the same being?

Finally, as if they had been waiting for that moment, Crowley reached out a hand towards Aziraphale, who did the same with his until they finally touched, just a touch of his fingertips with the opposites, but it was enough to make them feel complete. They were finally reconciling with their feelings, hugging them after an eternity trying to evade them. And it felt good, it felt liberating. It was perfect.

Although it was not the first time their hands touched, it was completely different from all the other occasions in which they had touched each other in disguise, pretending not to realize, ignoring the tickle that this small gesture caused them. This time they were not afraid to show what they felt. They wanted Heaven to know, Hell to know, humanity too, God… That everyone knew that an angel and a demon had fallen in love, because it was the purest feeling that either of them had ever experienced.

They were there, together, sharing the same bed, sharing everything they were in the most spiritual way possible, speaking with sincerity for the first time in those more than six thousand years, connecting in a way that little or nothing had to do with a physical closeness. Letting themselves go by the 'passion' of the moment, Aziraphale approached Crowley, who soon joined him to the center of the bed. Arms and legs entangled in a much-needed hug, holding on, looking for a position where their bodies fit together and pleasantly confirming that, as they thought, they fit perfectly on a natural way.

The moment their bodies made contact, melting into that tight hug, a delicate sigh caused the divine essence of both -because Aziraphale couldn't see a feeling as pure as something demonic- to merged in harmony and spread around them, filling the room with a new sensation, created by and for them both.

As soon as they were aware of what they had done, angel and demon stared into each other's eyes. And they smiled, conveying such emotion that couldn't be described using human words. Aziraphale had made love to a demon in the purest form that could exist. Crowley had replied him with everything but the lust that would be expected of him, with an indescribable, electrifying love.

Crowley sought to rest in Aziraphale's chest as he pulled him closer with his loving arms. Their hands entwined between their bodies and, almost immediately, both surrendered to sleep. Perhaps they would soon face the consequences of their actions, they had many things to prepare yet, but, at least for that night, it was only the two of them in the little paradise they had created together.


End file.
